That morning, Hawk's booming voice rang between the furnaces as usual.

"Today..."

The old blacksmith folded his arms and swept a sharp look over the apprentice youths in front of him.

When his gaze passed Roland's handsome face, he gave a small nod that was almost impossible to catch.

"Is the day of your examination!"

Hawk raised his voice.

"Baron Forsling will personally observe the examination in a while. All of you had better put your full spirit into this! Do you hear me?"

"Yes!"

At the news that the lord would soon arrive, the youths led by Marco wore the same mix of nerves and excitement.

As sons of blacksmiths, they already stood above most commoners. But compared with nobles who held hereditary titles, the gap was still enormous.

Roland felt little of that tension. Curiosity interested him more.

Since arriving in this world, he had heard plenty of rumors about Baron Forsling.

People said the lord lived extravagantly and spent without restraint.

But from Roland's own observations and the gossip he had gathered, the commoners of Blackwater Territory could not be called wealthy, yet they were nowhere near starvation.

If Baron Forsling were truly as wasteful as the rumors claimed, his subjects should have been living much harder lives. They should not have been maintaining basic food and clothing as they were now.

Roland was still thinking when uneven footsteps approached from a distance.

He looked up and saw a middle-aged man in a luxurious velvet coat walking over at an unhurried pace. His face was pale, with a faint flush beneath the skin.

The man was tall but thin, and every gesture carried the restraint of the nobility.

Two armored guards followed behind him with sharp weapons at their sides. More noticeable was the robust young man walking close beside him.

The middle-aged noble's indifferent gaze passed over the youths without interest. Only when it landed on Hawk did the corners of his mouth lift in a barely visible smile.

"Mr. Hawk."

Hawk stepped forward and bowed.

"My lord baron, blacksmith Hawk greets you and awaits your orders."

Baron Forsling chuckled, gave Hawk's solid arm a light touch, then turned and pointed to the young man beside him.

"This is my son, Darco. I imagine you have met him before."

The young man straightened his back, his bright eyes moving over everyone present.

"The boy insisted on observing the examination. I trust you do not mind?"

"It is an honor."

Hawk bowed again and greeted Darco.

After a few polite words, the baron turned to the matter at hand.

"How are the preparations for the apprentice examination?"

"Everything is ready, my lord."

"Then..."

The baron raised one hand with elegant ease.

"Begin."

He walked to the prepared high-backed chair nearby, leaned into it, rested one elbow on the armrest, and propped his cheek in his palm with a careless yawn.

Darco was the opposite.

The young nobleman studied the youths with open interest, sometimes shaking his head, sometimes nodding, plainly judging them in silence.

"Listen carefully, boys!"

Hawk turned to face the youths, his voice filling the smithy.

He pointed one large hand toward the neatly arranged anvils.

"Return to your workstations, study the blueprint carefully, and complete the forging within the allotted time!"

"The final result will depend entirely on the quality of your finished product!"

"Yes!"

The youths rushed to their assigned stations and grabbed the blueprints.

Roland walked to his position as well. His gaze fell on the dense annotations and complex structural diagram.

"A two-handed sword?"

His eyebrow rose, and he activated [Focus].

In the time it took the other youths to start frowning over the blueprint, every detail had already been branded into Roland's mind.

He turned to the furnace without hesitation.

Charcoal. Bellows. Smelting ore.

Each movement was clean and fluid.

By the time the other youths had just set down their blueprints, Roland had already raised the hammer and begun forging.

Bang, bang, bang!

The crisp crash of metal broke the smithy's silence.

"Damn it! How is he so fast?"

The confident expressions of the watching youths changed at once.

"Hmph! He's probably given up. Look at him. He doesn't even check before bringing the hammer down. He knows he can't pass, so he's trying to finish quickly and leave!"

After comforting themselves, the youths finally began moving one after another.

Soon, hammer blows rose and fell throughout the smithy.

Roland ignored the talk around him and put all his attention on the hammer.

Between strikes, he reconstructed the blueprint's details in his mind with precision.

Compared with an ordinary one-handed sword, a two-handed sword was far harder to forge.

The blade was heavier, the edge longer, the tapered point had to serve both chopping and thrusting, and the crossguard had to be made with accuracy.

Every part tested heat control and forging skill.

Before Roland changed occupation to Blacksmith, forging a two-handed sword would have been a serious challenge.

Even if he succeeded, it would have been difficult to create a clear gap between himself and the other youths.

Now, things were different.

With [Basic Blacksmithing] supporting him, he could judge the forging progress from the instant hammer met rough blank.

Bang!

The final hammer blow landed. Roland did not even glance down before clamping the rough blank and placing it back into the furnace.

Under [Furnace Heart], he did not need to open his eyes to sense how the blank was heating.

His smooth work made the youths watching from the side more anxious by the moment.

Darco, standing beside Baron Forsling, brightened and asked Hawk, "Mr. Hawk, that one is..."

He pointed toward Roland, who was pulling the bellows.

"What is his name?"

"His name is Roland."

Hawk kept his face stern, but the slight lift at the corner of his mouth betrayed him.

"What, Young Master Darco? Interested in him?"

"Indeed."

Darco nodded frankly and smiled.

"Mr. Hawk should know that I will soon enter the Knight Academy for further study. With my strength..."

He patted his sturdy torso with confidence.

"Passing the graduation examination, obtaining a knight breathing method, and becoming an official knight will not be a problem. However..."

"A knight cannot lack a skilled military blacksmith at his side."

"You will have to ask him yourself."

Hawk seemed to have expected this. After a moment of thought, he said, "That kid's talent in forging is not inferior to mine. Once he passes this examination, I estimate it will not take long for him to receive certification from the Blacksmith Guild."

"After he becomes an official blacksmith, whether he goes or stays will no longer be something I can decide."

"I understand."

After hearing Hawk's evaluation, Darco looked at Roland again. His appreciation had become open desire.

While the two spoke, Roland completed another forging cycle and entered the final polishing stage.

After some time, Roland ran his fingers over the newly forged two-handed sword and flicked the blade.

A faint hum answered him. Satisfaction lifted the corner of his mouth.

He turned neatly and raised the gleaming two-handed sword above his head.

"Mr. Hawk, my work is complete."

His clear voice cut through the wave of hammer strikes. The hammering across the smithy faltered.

Baron Forsling, who had been dozing against the back of his chair, straightened. Interest entered his narrowed eyes as he studied the young man.

"Nonsense!"

Master Hawk's scolding burst out like thunder, though the end of it softened despite himself.

"Have you forgotten the forging process? Check it carefully three more times!"

His thick fingers tapped the wooden table.

"Once everyone has finished, the works will be evaluated together."

"Yes!"

Much later, just as the examination time was about to end, the other youths finally completed their pieces one after another.

Two-handed swords of similar shape lay neatly on the anvils in front of them, catching the sunlight with a cold sheen.

"Cough, cough..."

Hawk coughed a few times and stepped forward, inspecting the swords the youths had forged.

Before long, the old blacksmith's brow drew tighter, and his face grew visibly red.

Perhaps because Baron Forsling was present, he did not roar as usual. He only announced the results one by one in a low voice.

"The ore was overheated during smelting. Unqualified."

"Insufficient forging force. Unqualified."

"You... this sword does not match the blueprint requirements. Unqualified!"

Hawk's breathing grew heavier, and so did his steps.

Soon, he arrived in front of Marco.

The blacksmith's son had not been shaken by Roland's earlier performance. Instead, he straightened his back and met Hawk's scrutiny with a firm gaze.

"Hmm..."

Hawk picked up Marco's two-handed sword with one hand, raised it before his eyes, and examined it in silence for a long while.

Marco's confidence swelled.

When Hawk inspected the others' work, he usually reached a conclusion after only two or three glances.

At length, the old blacksmith lowered the sword and nodded.

"Not bad. The force, rhythm, and landing points of your hammer strikes were all handled well. Only the heat during ore smelting was a little lacking. However..."

He paused.

"I'll count you as qualified."

"Thank you, Mr. Hawk!"

Marco bowed in excitement. When he straightened, his gaze slid toward Roland beside him, filled with contempt and provocation.

In Marco's view, Roland had spent the past month holding a strange dagger every day, carving inexplicable patterns into it with a file instead of properly practicing forging.

So what if his talent was high?

Without daily tempering, skill would only regress.

How could the current Roland compare to him?

As for Roland's astonishing speed just now, Marco considered it nothing but showmanship.

After all, forging tools and weapons often rewarded patient work. Too much speed could easily damage the finished product's quality.

Thinking this, Marco turned his gaze over the youths who had failed and snorted coldly.

His already straight back stiffened further, and his chin rose high, like a victorious lion displaying its mane.

In the next moment, the pride in Marco's eyes froze into disbelief.

Master Hawk walked to Roland's anvil. He tapped the blade twice with his fingers, then lifted his head in surprise and shouted, "Perfect! Qualified!"

"I announce that Roland is the winner of this examination!"

As his words fell, a rare smile appeared on Hawk's usually stern face.

He patted Roland on the shoulder, his tone gentler than usual but still authoritative.

"Kid, once you're under me, don't even think about slacking off. Work hard. Understood?"

"Yes!"

Roland had expected this result after changing occupation to Blacksmith, but his excitement was still hard to hide.

Becoming a blacksmith apprentice directly under a noble meant stable monthly pay and a clear rise in social status.

More importantly, it gave him the chance to keep improving his forging skill and raise the level of Basic Blacksmithing.

It was a win on several fronts at once.

At that moment, a voice warped by anger rang out.

"Mr. Hawk, this..."

Marco's fists clenched until his knuckles whitened. His whole body trembled.

He even forgot Baron Forsling was present and shouted at Hawk.

"This is unfair!"

"How could his forging skill be better than mine? He's nothing but a mud-legged peasant! And my father is..."

Hawk did not flare up at Marco's near hysteria. Pity entered his eyes instead.

To be fair, Marco's forging skill was indeed outstanding.

If Roland had not appeared out of nowhere, the apprentice spot should have belonged to him.

But Hawk would not soften because of that.

Even though he had a good relationship with Marco's father, he kept public and private matters separate.

"Shut up, you fool!"

After Hawk barked the order, he turned and bowed to Baron Forsling in apology.

Then he picked up both two-handed swords and put strength into his arms.

Clang!

The thick blades collided with a crisp metallic crash.

Under the sunlight, fine iron filings scattered down.

Everyone looked closer.

Roland's two-handed sword still gleamed, with only a few shallow scratches along the edge.

Marco's blade had split open with a shocking notch.

Facts spoke louder than arguments. The difference was obvious.

"This... this is impossible..."

Marco staggered back two steps. Color drained from his face, leaving him deathly pale.

When forging just now, he had clearly performed beyond his usual level.

That should have been the most perfect piece he had ever made.

The result before him struck his pride like a heavy hammer and smashed it apart.

He looked toward Roland. Though Roland was not looking at him at all, Marco felt silent mockery in that lack of attention.

Jealousy burned through the sixteen-year-old boy, nearly consuming his reason.

His fingers clenched around the hammer beside the anvil. Then he caught sight of Baron Forsling's fully armed guards and snapped awake.

Marco drew a breath, lowered his head with a dark expression, and forced his anger into silence.

"Then..."

Seeing Marco say nothing, Hawk patted his shoulder in comfort, then turned to the other youths.

"Those who failed the examination, pack your luggage and leave the estate before dark. Understood?"

"Yes..."

The youths answered weakly and left the smithy one after another with lowered heads.

Baron Forsling also rose from the high-backed chair and walked to Hawk's side.

"Mr. Hawk, since the examination is over, I shall take my leave."

"My lord baron, you are too courteous."

Hawk was about to bow, but the baron lightly supported his arm.

The noble turned to Roland and nodded approvingly.

"Well done, young man."

"Thank you for your praise, my lord baron."

Roland bowed. By the time he straightened, the baron had already turned away.

Darco smiled and waved at Roland, then quickly followed his father's steps.

"That guy... why is he so friendly to me?"

While Roland was wondering, Hawk had already walked to his side.

The old blacksmith was clearly in a good mood. Even his gray-white beard rose with the corners of his mouth.

"Good lad! I knew I hadn't misjudged you! Go back to the dormitory in a while and pack your luggage, then report to the smithy on the eastern side of the estate. Understood?"

"Yes, Mr. Hawk!"

"Heh heh heh..."

Hawk gave Roland a light punch, clasped his hands behind his back, and left at an easy pace while humming a tune.

In moments, the examination ground that had been noisy just before was left with only Roland. The surroundings quieted all at once.

Roland finally clenched his fist, no longer holding back his excitement.

"For ordinary people learning forging, becoming a Blacksmith Apprentice alone takes at least a year. But with the help of the occupation panel, I achieved it in only three months, and my forging skill is even more refined than an ordinary apprentice's."

"Give me a little more time, and my skills will reach the level of a formal blacksmith. As long as I join the Blacksmith Guild and obtain official blacksmith qualifications, I can barely count as established in this other world. However..."

Roland breathed out, calming himself.

Remembering yesterday's conversation with Bronson, he shook his head.

"Even after becoming a Blacksmith Apprentice, I absolutely cannot relax."

"While continuing to improve my forging skills, I also need to find ways to learn new combat skills. If there is an opportunity, I should try other things too and see whether I can awaken new skills and occupations."

With that thought, Roland felt the road ahead open wider.

He strode away from the examination ground.

After returning to the dormitory, Roland quickly packed his luggage and pushed open the door.

When he looked up, he found more than a dozen tall youths standing in the open space outside.

"They're the people who took the examination just now... Are they here to cause trouble? Those blacksmith sons shouldn't be stupid enough... No."

He narrowed his eyes and studied their faces. They were all commoner youths who, like him, had failed the knowledge test the first time and then barely reached the standard before the deadline.

"Looks like someone stirred them up from behind..."

Roland understood the situation at once.

He clearly remembered the prohibitions Hawk had set when he first arrived at the estate. One of them was the most serious.

Anyone who fought privately would be expelled from the estate.

"Someone set a trap and is waiting for me to jump in..."

Marco's jealousy-twisted face surfaced in Roland's mind.

"How childish."

Before, Roland would truly have had no way to handle this.

At that time, he had neither the strength to resist nor the freedom to ignore the rules.

Even if he won the fight, expulsion would have been waiting for him.

As for the youths surrounding him?

They had already failed the examination and had to leave the estate anyway. Whether they could beat him or not mattered little to them.

But now was different.

He had officially become a Blacksmith Apprentice under Baron Forsling's witness.

That meant Hawk would not drive him out of the estate unless he made a serious mistake.

In other words, he and these youths were no longer being judged under the same system.

And he remembered very clearly...

Some of them had bullied him plenty when he first came to this world.

A cold smile touched Roland's mouth. He raised his head calmly, looking over the group.

"Gentlemen... are you here for me?"

Before his words had settled, the sturdy youth at the front stepped forward with a sinister grin.

"You think you're something special because you used tricks to win the examination?"

He flexed his thick wrists, and his knuckles cracked.

"Today, we'll teach you what rules are."

The open space tightened with tension.

Roland noticed that their positions were organized. They had clearly planned this.

Three blocked his retreat, five sealed the sides, and the remaining seven or eight pressed forward from the front.

After exchanging glances, the leading youth swung a fist. The wind from the punch lifted the loose hair over Roland's forehead.

Bang!

After a dull impact, everyone stared.

Roland had caught the heavy punch with one hand.

His five fingers locked around the opponent's wrist like iron tongs. Under the sturdy youth's terrified gaze, Roland twisted.

Crack!

A joint dislocated with a clean snap, followed by a scream.

Roland drove his knee into the boy's abdomen and sent a body well over 170 pounds flying like a torn sack, knocking over three or four people behind him.

"This guy... how is this possible?"

Disbelief spread across the remaining youths' faces.

They clearly remembered how weak Roland had been back then.

If not for that big fool Sean protecting him, Roland might have left the estate under their bullying before the examination ever ended.

Their companion's groans brought fear to their faces.

But after thinking of the money Marco had promised, they stopped retreating.

"All together!"

Someone in the crowd shouted.

More than ten youths rushed him at once.

Roland's eyes sharpened. His Strength attribute of 6.5 showed its full force.

He retreated half a step, letting the first fist pass, then chopped the edge of his right hand into the nearest youth's neck.

The youth dropped without a sound.

Wind came from the left. Roland ducked under a sweeping wooden club and drove a backhanded elbow into the attacker's ribs.

Bone cracked. The attacker fell, spitting bloody foam.

Roland caught the wooden club from his loosened hand, turned, and swept it across the front, knocking three charging figures away at once.

In less than a minute, groaning bodies lay scattered across the open space.

The only youth still standing had trembling legs, and the front of his pants was already wet.

When Roland walked toward him, the terrified youth rolled his eyes back and fainted on the spot.

"Damn it! These useless mud-legged peasants!"

Marco clenched the shriveled money pouch in his hand, hiding in the shadows and cursing through gritted teeth.

"And those damned guards too. They usually patrol nearby at this time. Why today of all days..."

At that moment, heavy footsteps sounded beside him.

Marco turned and saw several fully armed standing soldiers walking over.

"What are you doing here!"

Marco's eyes brightened. He hurried out from the woods, waving his arms and shouting.

"Sir! Sir! They're gathered here fighting!"

"What?"

Seeing the leading standing soldier frown and walk toward Roland, Marco rejoiced in secret.

In the next second, the smile froze on his face.

Roland showed no panic at all. Instead, after seeing the soldier's face clearly, the corner of his mouth lifted.

Clearly, he was in a rather good mood.